The Father, the MoDo, and the Presidential Ghost

Back in the day, my Ma and Da — God rest their souls and their likes will never be seen with us again — used to warn me about many things during the Sunday Mass. Among the most important was not to interrupt the crazy old ladies who liked to say the Rosary at the top of their lungs. I found this very distracting. (I imagine the priest did, too. Hell, the cop directing traffic two blocks away could hear these biddies, God forgive my sin against charity.) Anyway, I took that to heart, and I wouldn't have done it anyway. Those women scared the Galatians out of me.

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I thought of them today while reading Maureen Dowd's latest psychosexual account of how we're electing a president this year. I will tiptoe prayerfully past all the references to ramrods and so forth, God forgive my sin against chastity. Instead, I would like to focus on this one passage:

Every election has the same narrative: Can the strong father protect the house from invaders? That question is burning now that intelligence sources are warning that Iranians might be coming to strike on U.S. soil. And, this time, we're also asking: Can the strong father save the house itself from going into foreclosure?

Can I ask a question? Do you know anyone who thinks this way? Do you know any living, breathing sentient human over the age of Fetus who looks at potential presidents as auditioning for the role of "the strong father"? In my lifetime, we've had 11 presidents. I have not looked at any of them as a "the strong father." Nixon? Carter? Either Bush? Do we honestly live in a country made of Legos? Is this woman out of her mind, or am I?

Hush, I hear my mother saying, don't disturb the loud old lady. She speaks to God in her own way, But, I think, does she have to drag the rest of us into the conversation, God forgive my sin against charity.